


lips parted (i love you, they say)

by Anonymous



Series: Pour Your Heart Into A Bottle [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Djinnverse (Supernatural), First Kiss, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, Insecure Castiel (Supernatural), Insecure Dean Winchester, M/M, Misunderstandings, Movie Night, Sam Winchester Has PTSD, im sorry if you were here for a lot of destiel- this is half sam, mild ones!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28698117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Sam had been. Nakedly not okay, in the djinn dream, and now Dean felt like he was seeing every extra, hidden inch on his frame. All those inches, all that largeness... he forgot that it made Sam a bigger target. And he forgot that his brother still needed to speak aloud the experiences.Meanwhile, Cas was pushing insistently. He wouldn’t let the lies go. But Dean had no clue how to admit to his best friend that his deepest desire was to be with him.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: Pour Your Heart Into A Bottle [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2077875
Kudos: 33
Collections: Anonymous





	lips parted (i love you, they say)

**Author's Note:**

> hey! here's the requested sequel to my previous fic- it expands on the djinnverse and the aftermath. Sam is featured HEAVILY, I'm sorry if that's not your cup of tea, but I think that as Dean tries to get Sam to be honest, he becomes more honest, and Cas becomes more understanding. They're a trio they work together, etc. etc. You can't have a third of the trio be slightly off. 
> 
> anyway: tw for panic attacks (Sam has one and Dean helps him a little) and some emotional angst.

Sam wouldn’t let up about it. “Tell me, come on.” 

Dean cleared his throat, pasting a charming smile to his face. “How about a  _ hell no _ , alright, Sammy?” 

“It must have been really bad,” Sam went on, lips pressed together. “You’re sure you won’t talk about it? At all?” 

“Absolutely positive.” Dean rolled his eyes. The thing was, he  _ did  _ want to tell someone all about it. He wanted to talk about- 

It had been the strangest thing. Cas had fucked him, in the kitchen and then in the bed, and then he’d gone on and held Dean all night, one arm firmly secured around him while he snored. Cas didn’t sleep in the real world. And if he did, Dean wouldn’t have suspected he would snore. Every day, he held himself back from insisting Sam provide proof that he was safe, and healthy, away from Ruby. Every day, he turned one way and felt his heart stop. 

Here? Here, Jo was dead. Bobby was dead. Mom was dead, Dad was dead, Cas was in Heaven dealing with angel bullshit. “Okay, but like. One thing, just so I can tell when I’m in a djinn dream.” 

Dean sighed noiselessly, toeing at the ground. “Yeah. Okay.” He swallowed, still tasting Cas in his mouth and wanting it back. Badly. “I had my own house,” he said, voice low. 

“Not the bunker?” 

Dean snorted. “We weren’t hunters, Sammy.” 

Sam looked at him in surprise. “We weren’t? What the hell did we do, then?” 

Dean rubbed at his stubbled jaw. “Dad owned a corporation. Chain ‘a businesses, or something. I worked at the Roadhouse, with.” He cleared his throat. “With Cas. It was crazy, man, the town was an actual  _ town _ and the Roadhouse was a fancy joint. Strip club.” Both of them made a face. “Dad, I guess, had bought it awhile ago.” 

“Did I work there, too? Wait.” Sam looked at Dean, squinting. “You worked for Dad as a  _ stripper _ ?” 

Dean shook his head vehemently. “Fuck no! We were bartenders. It was nice, I forgot how nice it was. We haven’t done those kinds of jobs in ages. You lived out in Kansas, but you still found the time to drive in every Friday, we had these weird… family dinner things.” 

Sam was trying not to laugh. “Oh, so we acted like a normal family? Must have been so stressful for you, poor baby,” he was laughing, and then. 

“You were dating Ruby.” Sam’s face lost its color. “Damn, Sam, I didn’t mean… I don’t know why it was supposed to be in my dream like that. I promise I didn’t want you to be with her like that, you know how I feel about her.” Dean scowled, resting his head on his hand. “But you were with her, for some reason.” 

“It’s fine,” Sam replied automatically. “No big deal. We’re talking about you, anyway, I don’t really factor into the conversation.” 

He  _ did _ , but Dean didn’t want to push it. Dean didn’t know  _ how  _ to push it. Sam always did this! He always put himself down, put himself out of the equation and the lives they were leading. “No, Sammy, it was awful to watch. You, uh, saw, right? All the- touchy feely?” Sam had his eyes on the road, on his white knuckles holding the steering wheel, on the patch of Dean’s hair where it was most unruly. Anywhere but Dean. 

“You mean your hugs? I remember,” Sam said, laughing. 

Dean’s face crumpled. “But. Everyone was alive. Jo was alive.” 

“Jo?” Sam smiled. “I miss her,” he muttered, mouth snapping shut. 

_ Don’t say too much _ . Good old Sammy. So silent. “Ah, who doesn’t?” Dean chuckled. And the rest- he couldn’t  _ stop _ it, it all just came tumbling out until he felt pale and slightly sick. “So I lived a while away from the Roadhouse, I had the Impala, and a cat, the cat was named Angelica, I called her Angie, and Donna and Jody had family supper with us. It was… a formal dinner, not the kind we like. And Bobby was there, alive, he didn’t look like he was supposed to, and he… I dunno, Sammy, he laughed at me and I miss him a fuckin’ lot, now.”    
  


He paused. Took a deep breath. “I did something.” 

Sam froze up. “What?” he asked, forced lightness. 

_ I slept with our best friend _ . “Cas,” he explained, swallowing hard. “It was…” 

“You called?” 

Both of them jumped, skittish. “What the fuck?” Sam asked, letting out a deep breath and letting out an easy laugh. 

“Cas,” Dean choked out, reaching over to pat him on the back. He locked a hand around Dean’s wrist. 

“Do you need anything?” he asked, frowning deeply. 

“Do we?” Sam asked Dean. 

Dean floundered. Like a flapping seal, he floundered. “I don’t…” Cas cocked his head. The djinn had never gotten that bit quite right, it was too pronounced. This Cas was methodical. Dean tried to meet him on his level. “I need some good takeout, is what I need,” he ended up saying, smiling lopsided. 

“I am not hungry, but we can get takeout,” Castiel agreed. 

Dean pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. “Get on it, then, Sammy, what are you waiting for?” 

“ _ Get on it, then _ ,” Sam mimicked. “I want Evergreens, you?” 

Dean considered. “McDonalds. Or Taco Bell. You, Cas?”    
  


“I would like fries,” he said, focusing on his hands. Dean whipped his head away, quick, to keep from thinking about how he’d dreamed those hands. How fucked up was he? That he’d think about that with his friend? That it would be in his  _ djinn world _ , like, like his deepest desire was to see his mom alive and get railed by his best friend. 

The slow thump of Sam’s arm, now resting lazily out the window, reminded Dean that they hadn’t finished their conversation. “You in town, then?” he asked. 

Cas shrugged. “I heard you call,” he said to Dean. Sam watched the two of them, looking back at the road once Dean warmed him with a look. 

“Awesome, man,” Dean said, watching a pair of maple trees, slightly sparse, go by. They were the only scenery for miles. 

Sam ditched him within five minutes of arriving in Big Till, Kansas, and Dean… well, he didn’t blame ‘im. Instead, with jittery hands, he followed Cas into the McDonalds. 

“What do you want to get?” he asked softly. 

Dean didn’t even need to consider the options, given that he got the same thing every time. “McRib combo meal.” 

Castiel ordered for both of them, and Dean didn’t even try to take the lead. They sat in the same side of a booth, because Dean had gotten in first and Cas had followed him, with their meals. 

Dean tried to eat slowly, fry by fry, but Cas was watching him with these… these soft eyes. And Dean had been in the djinn dream and seen them before, but these were different. Behind his eyes, sometimes, you could see his grace. That was what Dean thought. And the djinn Cas had no grace, no extra blue eyes. 

“Dean,” Cas said gently, putting his hand on Dean’s. 

Snorting quietly, Dean patted him on the back. “Yeah?” 

“Is something wrong? You are not acting like your usual self,” he said. 

_ Yeah, you lump, it’s because I recently realized that I want you. More than I should.  _ “Eh, just nerves. That dream freaked me out,” Dean said, swallowing a bite of fry. He never said anything. The thought was bitter, tasted like vinegar or shitty coffee. 

“I see.” Cas nodded wisely.  _ Do you _ ? Dean was in a teasing mood today. If it went too far, he’d end up starting shit with Sammy and one of them would say something stupid. 

Instead, he ground his teeth and set into the meal. A medium drink and a McRib later, he spotted Sammy loitering outside. “How’s the salad, herbie?” he shouted, raising his eyebrows. 

“It was good,” Sam laughed. For a moment, Dean felt kinda relieved. He knew he could be a lot to handle when he was in a mood, he knew it for a fact. 

“Dean, are you sure you’re not suffering ill effects?” 

“I’m  _ fine _ , man,” he stressed. “Hey, we wanna go to Colonial Cafe?” 

Sam sighed exaggeratedly. “I guess… I guess I would enjoy an ice cream float,” he said, shutting them back in the car. 

Dean was very aware of Cas, his presence, in the backseat. Even more so than usual. It made his mouth dry, all he could do was stare out the window and wrap his hands around his arms, while Sam made conversation. Cas was watching him. He could  _ feel it _ . “Hey, would you stop that?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. 

“Stop what?” Cas blinked innocently. 

“Uh, staring? Like that?” 

Cas stared him down flatly. “Dean, I can feel your prayers. Do you realize how attuned I am to you?” 

Friends didn’t say that to friends. “Shut up,” Dean muttered. He probably still needed to follow up with Sammy on his emotions and shit, and he had already had that long, long conversation. Well, it felt like it had been long, it probably- 

“We’re here!” Sam announced. “Cas, look at the menu so you aren’t indecisive,” he ordered. 

With a prickly face, he left the car. “Wow, Sammy, real subtle.” 

“It was him, right?” Sam frowned out the car, eyes shutting briefly. “You wanted Cas.” 

Dean’s jaw worked as he tried to find the courage to deny it. “Yeah,” he replied softly. “I don’t know, I think there’s not the same potential here. I think it could have, I think it  _ would  _ have worked in the dream.” 

“Not here?” Sam asked. 

All Dean could do was smile bitterly. Cas knocked pointedly on the window not more than a second later. 

“Coming!” Sam called, walking around the car. Dean knew he’d just accept it, because that was what Sam did. Lately, when any potential arrived for him, Sam would just let it go. He’d slink away. Dean would have talked to him about it, but that would be damn hypocritical. 

His head thunked down on the dash. He’d been doing that a lot lately. 

* * *

Bunker was mostly empty. It had the cars, it had Sam tucked away, reading, and it had Dean up late at night, drinking milk and rifling through the cabinets for cookies. 

And it also… it also had Cas, it seemed. “Dean,” he said quietly, under an intimate tangle of goosebumps in Dean’s shoulders. 

“Hey, Cas, what are you doing up?” he asked, chewing on oreo. 

Cas settled into a chair, patient look on his face. “I am an angel, I don’t feel the need to sleep. Are you feeling well, Dean? You seem to be under the weather.” He pressed his palm on Dean’s forehead. Not to heal, just to  _ feel _ . 

“I’m fine,” Dean said, not pushing him away. 

He was  _ tired _ . In his bones. Tired of waiting and pushing himself down, of being miserable. He rubbed a hand through his hair, watching Cas’s eyes. “Is there a reason you’re so close?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow. 

Slowly, Cas shook his head. “Is this sufficient?” he asked, gesturing to the spread. Dean blinked, turning around. 

“Oh, yeah. More’n enough for a midnight snack.” 

Cas smiled, soft. “I’m glad. Do you need assistance with getting to sleep again?” 

“Stay out of my head,” Dean joked. “But, ah, no, not tonight. If I can’t sleep, I’ll just watch a movie.” He took his cheese, his crackers, his oreos, and his beer, edging to the door. Cas had a funny little glint in his eye. Dean didn’t know what to make of it, so he just walked out the door. His cheeks were turning a ruddy red, slowly, as he made his way down the hallway. 

“Dean.” Cas sounded like quiet, he sounded like under the Impala, when there was nothing but him and his car, without the noise of up above. “You’ve been acting so strange… I don’t know what I’ve done.” 

It had been  _ Dean  _ that did this. He was the one lusting after Cas, and acting weird about it. “Cas, I- you really didn’t do anything,” he said tiredly. 

“I think I did, though,” Cas countered, moving closer. “But I don’t know what.” His voice cracked. Dean winced.

And now he was just as quiet, but he was hurt, too. The glint in his eyes was hurt. The hand that opened and closed, clenching down like he wanted to grab Dean, that was hurt. 

“It really wasn’t you. The… the djinn dream fucked with me a lot,” Dean said, repeating everything he’d been saying for what felt like  _ weeks _ .

“I know, but what did I do? Was I abhorrent? Was I evil?” 

Dean laughed. “No, not evil. Not- Cas, you’re the least evil person I know.” He paused. “Keep it in mind, alright? I’m going to go watch a buddy cop movie, I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Like Zootopia?” Cas tilted his head to the side. 

“No, not like Zootopia.” Dean put on a scowl and kept walking, this time in step with his friend. 

They  _ did  _ watch Zootopia. Dean thought the fox was sort of hot. 

* * *

With Sam feeling sensitive and slightly freaked, and Dean still reeling from the djinn, it was only a matter of time before they made a mistake on a hunt. It didn’t take long. Took an embarrassingly short amount of time, actually. 

But the time came, as Sam had been sent into one of his weird, panicky things, and Dean’s chest was heaving as he tried to get the vengeful spirit taking over this house not to start taking chunks out of his hands, and it was  _ bad _ . “Sammy, get up!” he tried to yell, skirting the edges of the salt circle. They were huddled in there together, Sam plastered to the wall. “Sammy, come on,” he said, softer. 

He watched as his brother opened his eyes and shut ‘em again, real quick, hands making fists over and over.  _ Note to self: sam is a trainwreck, help him out _ , dammit, this had been going on for months. Years. Dean wished they weren’t so terrible at talking. 

_ Cas _ , he thought, a real prayer, not like those bullshit ones Cas decided were summoning him every few days. Well, lately, it was like every few hours. There was the tell tale sparking underneath the old trenchcoat as Cas turned eagle eyes on the spirit. He reached out, crushing the “cursed hand” that everyone thought was fake, and it turned to ashes. 

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. It was fucked, that hand, and it had been too obvious. “Sam is hurt,” Cas said, panic threading his voice. 

Dean shook his head mutely, facing Sam again. He had his back to the wall and every few seconds he’d open his eyes. “Cas got the spirit, you’re right here with me, I’m betting this.” He cleared his throat, watching the narrow, slightly irritated eyes face him. He sounded like he was choking to death, disappearing down a drain that had no end. “I’m betting this is going to be over soon, you just have to get through it.” 

“Real- helpful,” he said, exhaustion suddenly crossing his face. Things were evening out, and Dean breathed out his own sigh of relief. “Sorry.” 

“You look really fucking sick, Sammy. Cas! We’re getting soup on the way home,” Dean announced, reaching out but not touching. He wasn’t sure if Sam wanted to lean on him or not, he was touchy about that shit. 

“I’m fine.” Sam didn’t look fine. He didn’t act fine. 

“You’re as fine as Dean says he is,” Cas said with a straight face. Dean didn’t bother refuting it, though his jaw clenched in anger. He was too exhausted. Sam turned a tired but knowing smile on him, stumbling forward. 

With one foot, he kicked through the salt circle. Dean almost expected a ghost to come at them, screaming. “I’m fine,” Sam repeated, a drooping smile on his face. 

“You’re awful at lying,” Dean told him. He was worn out, too, wrung to pieces. One of his arms shook intermittently and the other felt so sore, the muscles, that he was fairly sure it would be unusable soon. 

“Dean, do you need me to heal you?” Cas asked him, resting a hand on Dean’s elbow. Sam got the other arm, looping around his shoulders and half carrying him. 

“Yeah, whatever. Mojo me.” 

The fluttering warmth entered him, digging into his bones and lifting the pain away. Dean was happy with it, happy as he could be. He stepped out in front of the pair of ‘em, knocking his head on the roof of the car as he got in. 

He had a certain appreciation for this silence. This bone tired, collapsing silence that continued all the way to the grocery store, that no one wanted to fill, all too tired, too worn down. 

* * *

Four things Dean had learned in the past four days: Sam was resistant to kindness, suspicious of it. Dean was resistant to change. Cas never slept, and it was a blessing and a curse. 

And he should have never thought about that djinnverse again. 

Sam was eating soup, sending wry and gentle smiles to Dean as he made frustrating switchbacks in their conversations, jumping easily away from anything  _ revealing _ . He danced around Dean’s blunt, unpracticed attempts to comfort him. “Yeah, so, uh, how was it when I was gone?” Dean asked again, looking straight at Sam. 

He concentrated at his soup. “Cas was tetchy the whole time.” Despite himself, Dean looked over at Cas, raising his eyebrows playfully. 

“Were you? That’s great,” he laughed. 

“I was not tetchy.” There was a mean little scowl on his face. 

“You know what?” Dean declared. Sam’s eyebrows crinkled and he sent a questioning look at Dean. “You’re a fucking liar. And bad at it.” 

Cas’s eyes narrowed and he turned on Dean, hands clenching on the back of the wooden chair he had been sitting in. “Dean. You have been lying non-stop to me since you were saved from that dream and I do not know why, all I know is that it has been happening. I do not think you want to enter this argument with me.” His speech had gone formal, like it did whenever he was holding back. 

The sound of Sam’s chair scraping back distracted them. Dean frowned, so upset- Sam was still deflecting, and Cas was mad at him, and Dean was really just trying to fix it all. “Sam, don’t leave.” 

His face was perfect. Still. Dean could look at him for hours and not see a single change, other than the uncomfortable flick of his eyes to the side. He swallowed. “I’m done with my soup, and I don’t want to deal with this awkward interrogation.” His eyebrows drooped. “Just leave me alone, okay?” 

Dean pressed his lips together, eyes pricking with tears. “Cas-” 

“I am  _ leaving _ , Dean,” he growled. He went out the other door. Dean was alone. 

“Fuck this,” he muttered. 

* * *

Dean did not, in fact, follow through on that statement. A  _ fuck you  _ to the situation would have been hightailing it outta there, maybe taking the express train down into Chicago to relax for a while- he did no such thing. Instead, he was a boat carefully trying to steer through waters treacherous and much too rocky for comfort. Instead, he was watching Sam with a close eye, through a lens. 

Dean knew the babying wasn’t appreciated. Or the knowing comments. Sam had taken to sleeping and eating in his room, only doing research in the parts of the library that had so much dust and darkness that Dean thought he would be eaten alive by grime when he entered the space. “Sam,” he said. His voice cracked. 

Slowly, his brother lifted his head from where it was pillowed on his arms. “Guess you found me.” Sleep roughened, and rubbing at his eyes, he stared neutrally at Dean. 

God, he felt like he was singing the choir solo in 6th grade again because his voice was the only one with the range. In front of everyone. And definitely not good enough. “I came to apologize.” 

“Wha- apologize?” 

Dean smiled tightly. “I’m not doing this right. And I know it’s not our thing, but if you could just  _ tell me _ about how you’re doing, I’d really, really like it.” He took a deep, honest breath. “Sammy, I can see you’re struggling and I don’t like it, like at all, and I just wish I knew how to help, okay?” 

He squinted, resisting the urge to run. “I’m fine, Dean.” 

“No you’re not,” he countered, drawing back from the hostility he so badly wanted to bring out. He wanted to  _ shake  _ Sam,  _ tell me the truth _ , and pull him into a vicious, vicious hug that would squeeze out all the downplaying. Dean wanted him to talk out loud. “Sam, the other day, in the salt circle, was that fine? You act like you’re just, just floating along somewhere where nothing can touch you, but you’re not! Whatever you need.” 

“Dean.” 

“Whatever you need, if you gotta yell at me, or punch something, or write it down, or, I don’t know,  _ cry _ , I’m here.” Sam closed his eyes.

“I need you to go.” 

Dean’s mouth opened and shut. But he did go. He backed towards the door, discomfort swirling in his gut. And bumped right into Cas. “Dean?” he asked shortly.

“Oh. Sorry buddy, I was just leaving.” Cas turned away, irritable, and nodded. 

“Sam, would you like to go for a drive?” 

Sam scrambled to his feet. “Give me a second, Cas.” Dean pushed past him into the hallway, trying not to listen in on the fast fading conversation behind him. But he couldn’t ignore it when Sam’s familiar footsteps chased after him. “Dean.” 

“Sammy?” He tried to smile. It didn’t really work. 

There was a twist on Sam’s face, like a snake was sitting on his tongue, holding it down. He wouldn’t speak but he wanted to. Dean slowly made his way to the wall, leaning there, and watched the indecision play out. Eventually, Sam spoke. Slow. “Dean, you know I trust you a lot, right?” he asked, low in tones and eyes on the ground. 

“Yeah,” Dean said, chokingly. 

“So you know it’s about… I shouldn’t tell people things, alright?” Sam lifted his eyes. “Look what happened to Cas after-” They were both silent. “People know things that are better left unsaid. About me. About us. We hunt monsters for a living, you know. You do realize that every time we meet someone new, it’s because we’re about to fuck up their life? Or because their life has already been fucked up by some  _ monster _ ?” 

Dean chewed on his lip. “We’re not the monsters, though.” 

Sam shook his head. “Yeah, but we’re the reapers. I don’t know. We’re always out there when awful things are happening and they’re normal for us. Look what happened when I couldn’t get rid of it, after the Cage. Look what happened to Cas. It was a mess. Look what happens when I tell people things,” Sam was saying, more forceful. “I can’t tell you.” 

His voice faded to blackness as he looked away. Something was trembling along his large arms. 

“Hey, guess the fuck what,” Dean said, advancing on him. “I don’t care if it fucks me up, okay?” He stared until Sam actually looked at him. “I need you to tell me at  _ least what to do _ , if you have on of those- those breakdowns again.” 

Sam was tired. He sighed, heavy, and shifted into an identical leaning position next to Dean. “It’s panic attacks, okay?” he said, voice low and somewhat scared. “They’re like a response to trauma. You know.”

Dean couldn’t help but feel relieved. The absolute blankness had passed from Sam’s face, it was opening up, now. It looked like Sam. It looked like he did when he was reluctant, and sick, but clamoring for tea anyway. Dean tentatively reached out and squeezed Sammy’s shoulder, breath catching when Sam let him. 

* * *

Cas was in his room. Dean reflexively wanted to flop down next to him. Better yet, on top of him. Dean wanted to flop on Cas’s chest and just lay there. “Dean,” he said, as if he was trying to look ready. 

Dean strolled into the room, tentative, with his hands in his pockets. “Hey.” He cleared his throat. “What’re you doing in here?”    
  


Cas gave the door a long look. “I’m here to talk, Dean. Clear the air. So to speak.” 

Dean wanted to collapse in relief. “Yeah,” he said, rushing forward. “Please. That’s a good idea.” 

“I know very well that it is no easy feat to discuss these things. I know you have your brother. Watching you speak with Sam I have begun to understand.” He cast his gaze at Dean, eyes large and knowing. “This dream could have been as awful as you say it is. Or it could have been beautiful, like I have heard djinn dreams are. And that is about you. And it is not my place,” he said, indicating his seat on the bed, “To ask.” 

“Hey, you’re my best friend. Well within your rights,” Dean said gently. 

“My insistence, though…” His face soured. 

“Sweep it under the rug, Cas.” Dean rolled his eyes, half smiling from the doorway but taking a lot of energy and putting it into his fast disappearing ability to hide how much he wanted to take Cas by the cheek and kiss the life out of him.

Like a moth, Cas’s blue eyes never strayed from him for long. “Dean, I care for you so much.” He was choking on the words. “I want you to know that. Forgive my coarseness, but you are a  _ fucking  _ masterpiece.” 

Dean blinked at him stupidly. “What?”    
  


“That was your business.  _ Your  _ dream.  _ Your  _ trauma. Not mine to nose at, even if it’s part of you.” He wasn’t saying something, Cas wasn’t saying something, and Dean’s chest was heaving in quick pants. Damsel in distress. Disney Princess. “Even if I would love it about you, like I would love all things about you.”    
  


Dean  _ flung _ himself forward. He hit the bed, toppling onto Cas. “The fuck,” he growled, kissing him hard on the lips. “The- Cas, you’re serious, you’re serious, right?” 

“I am incredibly serious.” Cas met his eyes, level. Dean snaked an arm around him, tucking his cheek against Cas’s shoulder and anchoring himself there. Solid as a rock in a storm. He swallowed, painful. 

“It was you,” he admitted, voice faint. “You were it, the thing I didn’t want to say out loud. That happened in the dream.” 

Cas clenched a hand around Dean’s forehead, inspecting his face. For lies. Looking away, Dean grimaced. “God, I- I need some air.” He ruffled his hair, stepping back. 

Cas tilted his head, still holding out. “Where do you want to go?” 

And like that, they were on a windy cliff. There was the pretty noise of the wind, and Dean blinked into it. “Thanks. Cas.” 

A broad, warm hand settled into the soft part of his back. “Dean, I’m sorry,” he began haltingly. 

What  _ was  _ this? These apologies, these ridiculous miscommunications. The wind blew at them. “Cas, don’t apologize,” and it came from a deep, rumbling place in his chest. Cas lifted his face; they locked eyes. “Come  _ on _ . I want to kiss you just as much as you want to kiss me. This isn’t about what happened in the dream, either,” he said, swaying forward. “This is about you and me.” 

“It troubles me,” Cas whispered. Dean almost missed it- the wind was blowing like mad. “I can’t feel any change.” 

Dean rested his hand on his chest, glancing down. “I- what kind would you expect?” Cas’s blue eyes, forlorn, strayed out to sea. There were seams of change running along their relationship. 

“I would expect you to feel fonder.” Cas squinted at him.

“It ever occur to you that I’m plenty fond of you already?” Dean raised his eyebrows. Cas’s eyes were electric blue, and with the wind grabbing at his hair and pulling it up, he seemed otherworldly. More than he usually did.

Cas leaned forward and kissed him. Gentle lips, soft ones. If a feeling could be pretty, this one. This one was pretty like a flower, velvet petaled roses or some shit, it was- “Cas.”

They stood there, time stretching infinite. Clutching onto each other. Dean couldn’t believe that this was real. The flickers of doubt that had been haunting him since he escaped had died, because this was realer than real. It was Cas. It was his life. It was his deepest desire come true, in the right way this time.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you liked this!! I hope the sequel is up to snuff and everything, I went a different direction I guess.


End file.
